


Returning Home

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Confused Merlin (Merlin), Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Fluff, Gwaine Lives (Merlin), Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Polyamory, Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Queen Gwen (Merlin), SO MUCH FLUFF, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin and Arthur return to Camelot, side by side.It's the beginning of the Golden Age of Albion
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Percival (Merlin)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 148





	1. Coming Home

For once, he didn’t have to hide his smile. He walked beside Arthur, not a step behind, not bowing his head. By Arthur’s side, the King striding with his head held high, even if he had a slight limp. Around them, the people of Camelot cheered and whooped, rejoicing at the return of their thought-dead King.

Merlin had to force himself to look away from Arthur’s neck, to the pulse-point he’d been staring at ever since he’d brought Arthur back from the dead. He’d cheated Destiny, and his King had returned. There had to be a price for such a thing, but for now, he was content to revel in the screams of those of Camelot, the things being thrown to their feet as they moved through the City.

His staff was his comfort, fingers wrapped around it, fully aware it was still glowing from the lightning Merlin had summoned to bring Arthur back from the dead. Nobody glared, nobody hissed out the word Sorcerer or tried to arrest him. Nothing but acceptance, but smiles and children passing him flowers as they walked towards the Castle.

‘Don’t let the praise get to your head.’ Arthur teased, smiling over at him in a way that had Merlin’s breath catching.

His King, very much alive, and looking like the golden-Prince that Merlin had first fallen in love with.

‘Don’t worry, Sire, I’m too busy making sure your ego can fit through the doors.’ Arthur’s laughter was infectious, those around him looking in awe as the King reached over to nudge him.

The Castle must have heard that they were coming through the city, because the staff were lining the courtyard before they’d even set foot on the cobbles. He could see Gaius, with a proud smile on one side of the space, while familiar faces hovered around.

It was Leon that he paused on, grinning up at the man while the First Knight smiled just as warmly back at him.

‘Arthur!’ Merlin’s head snapped to the Queen, lifting her skirts as she came rushing down the steps to reach him. Merlin took a step back, watched as the two embraced. Laughter, kisses that he wasn’t supposed to be watching, Gwen cradling Arthur’s face like she couldn’t quite believe he was alive.

‘You came back to me.’ She murmured, tracing a thumb over his lip as the King beamed back at her.

Camelot’s golden couple, Merlin thought, bowing low when the Queen’s attention turned to him.

‘Your Majesty.’ He murmured, more than aware that not many would address the Queen as such, not when the King was by her side.

He was more surprised when Gwen barelled into him, a rush of limbs and skirts that he only just managed to catch. His staff was abandoned, falling to the ground as he held her just as tightly as she gripped him.

Warm eyes met his, seeking an answer he didn’t quite understand, before Gwen moved back in.

This time, it was to a pair of soft, plush lips against his. Like their first kiss, Merlin was more baffled than anything else, hands awkwardly flailing while he tried to figure out if he should be pulling away.

The Queen took a step back, flicking her gaze back to Arthur, then to Merlin.

‘Careful, love, I don’t think Merlin’s mind can take too many shocks.’ Arthur’s voice snapped him out of his shock, quickly looking between the two while he tried to figure out why nobody was surprised.

‘Go. Find Gwaine.’ Arthur advised, something that Merlin had been badgering him about on the trip home. He could feel Gwaine’s lifeforce, had been able to ever since he first befriended the Knight. Now, with Gwaine as his closest companion, he’d felt it the moment Gwaine began to detioriate.

‘Yes, Sire.’ He added the title out of worry, still confused about the kiss from Gwen, but he had to get to Gwaine.

He didn’t think before stretching his hand out, the staff returning to his hand without him having to look at it.

Freezing was an instinct, casting a wary look to Arthur, who just laughed and tugged Guinevere towards the Castle.

**

‘Merlin, can you, are… Is it possible?’ Percival cradled Gwaine’s head with a tenderness that made Merlin’s stomach tighten, an unknown jealously stabbing him as he settled by Gwaine’s side.

‘I’ll do everything I can.’ Merlin promised, watching as Percival’s hand closed over his over Gwaine’s heart.

It was strangely tender, a moment that stretched until he dared to look up at the Knight.

‘We always knew you’d save us.’ Percival murmured quietly, his other hand catching a tear that Merlin didn’t even know was falling.

He had used so much energy, had saved Arthur, but he still had to do the same for Gwaine. Maybe, once he’d cheated Destiny yet again, then fate would snatch everything back that it was seemingly giving.

‘I thought I’d lose everyone.’ He whispered, a secret that he swore would haunt him forever.

He could still see Morgana’s eyes, the vengeful green that broke when she realised that he would fulfil his destiny, that he’d be her doom. He’d killed her, a person that had been handed a fate just like he had, and it made him sick.

‘We’re right with you, Merlin.’ Percival promised, while Merlin began to work on the spell. Rough fingers stayed over his, holding him steady while he shuddered under the strain of the Magic flowing through him. It came out as golden strands that began to work under Gwaine’s skin, overpowering Morgana’s own Magic and bringing life back to his fading soul.

‘Look at me.’ Percival requested, his free hand tilting his head up. Merlin shuddered, keeping his eyes shut out of a habit of knowing the ugly gold that they’d shine. Arthur had seen it, and Merlin had thought he’d lose everything.

Maybe the banishment was coming, once Arthur had his Knight back, and he no longer needed a sorcerer.

‘Open your eyes, let me see.’ The Knight’s voice barely broke the silence of the room, the only sound being Merlin’s chest as it rapidly rose and fell.

When he opened his eyes, it was to meet his reflection in the Knight opposite. He didn’t recoil, just watched as Merlin kept the stare, afraid that breaking it would end the moment.

He may exist to serve Arthur, but he also wanted to save his other friends. Gwen, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, they all mattered to him. He may have failed Elyan and Lancelot, but he would not fail anymore. Not if Arthur gave him the chance to show what his Magic could do.

‘Beautiful.’ Many people had used that word, but never aimed at him. Never aimed at his Magic, not the very thing that made most people call him a monster. He sucked in air, didn’t pull away as the thumb brushed along his cheekbone, halting when it reached his lips.

‘Gods, can you two just kiss already?’ Merlin jumped back at the croaking voice, Percival’s hand dropping down to where Gwaine was staring between the two of them.

‘Gwaine!’ Merlin lunged, sprawling out on top of the Knight as he laughed, wincing as he sat up.

‘Hey there, Merls.’ A hand ruffled his hair, while Percival watched the two of them with a small smile in place.

‘Is the Princess alright?’ Gwaine asked, fingers stroking down Merlin’s spine while the Warlock tried to work out how long he had before he passed out.

Honestly, too much Magic was a burden on the soul.

‘He needs rest, and I should probably check the wound has fully healed, plus there will be other Knights that…’

‘We can do that. You should be resting.’ Percival cut in, sharing an incomprehensible look with the Knight Merlin was seated upon.

‘You’re going grey, Merls.’ Gwaine’s fingers moved down to his pulse, just like Merlin had done repeatedly as he sobbed for Arthur to wake back up.

‘Need to get to Arthur.’ He tried, attempting to scramble from Gwaine’s lap, only for his legs to wobble under him.

Percival was quicker, catching him as the floor rapidly approached.


	2. Sunsets and Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort, angst, and friendship

Merlin did try to get out of the bed, in his defence.

‘Stay.’ Gwaine scolded, pushing him back down despite the fact that the King of Camelot had entered the room, with the Queen behind him.

‘Sir Gwaine. I see you’ve recovered.’

‘Yes Sire, thanks to Merls.’ Merlin scowled, went to point out that Gwaine never used the King’s title unless it was serious.

Then again, they’d all been close to death just a day before.

‘Merlin, how do you feel?’ Gwen came across to his bedside, sitting down like she had when she had been a maid, rather than the Queen. He couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous, flicking his gaze between her and Arthur.

Plus, she’d kissed him.

‘Fine.’

‘He’s lying. He can’t stand.’ Percival provided, the traitor, and Gwen snatched up Merlin’s hand.

‘The Council are eager for your return. Once you’re rested, I expected you by my side at the next meeting.’ Arthur wasn’t telling him the full truth. There was something about the way he said it, the slight smile that lingered when he watched Gwen press a kiss to Merlin’s forehead.

‘By… your side?’ He frowned, but the King just chuckled.

‘Did using that much Magic knock out your remaining braincells.’

Magic. The King of Camelot had just talked about magic, like it wasn’t a big deal.

Merlin decided he had probably died on the lakeshore, with his arms still wrapped around Arthur’s cooling body.

Before he could stop it, the thought had latched, remembering the way that Arthur’s eyes had rolled back, unseeing as Merlin clutched at his armour. He’d stopped breathing, Merlin felt it the moment he died, the moment that he was snatched away because of Merlin being too slow to…

‘-erlin!’ Hands cradled his cheeks, dark eyes full of worry and concern, before he was tugged against someone.

Gwaine, his mind provided, while his hands snuck out to seek for the Knight’s pulse.

Wasn’t that what it was all about? Them being alive, when Merlin thought he’d lost them both.

‘He’s still breathing, okay? Look, hey, look at him! The Princess is fine.’ He was, Merlin belatedly noticed. Terrified of Merlin’s breakdown, unsure of how to respond, but otherwise fine.

More importantly, there wasn’t a bleeding wound in his stomach, caused by Merlin’s own hatchling and the friend he’d betrayed.

Morgana.

He’d left Morgana’s body in the forest.

‘I think he needs more rest.’ Percival firmly stated, reaching for another blanket while Merlin was thinking to the green eyes that haunted him.

‘We’ll keep an eye on him.’ Gwaine assured, leaving Arthur and Guinevere to return to their Kingdom.

Merlin, after all, needed to rest.

**

‘Just where do you think you’re going?’ Merlin halted, biting his lip as he slowly turned around.

Sir Leon looked mostly amused, although there was worry in the smile he shot Merlin.

‘Would you believe me if I said I was out for a stroll?’ The Warlock tried, too tired to think of a lie on the spot.

Leon huffed, taking another step towards him.

‘How did you lose Gwaine and Percival?’ Momentarily, Merlin blushed. The two Knights had stayed right by his side, up until the moment that Merlin had insisted he needed a bath. Gwaine had offered to undress him, which may or may not have been a joke, while Percival had wanted to stay, just to make sure he was okay.

Merlin, quite unused to all the attention, and especially unused to it being so open, had used the opportunity to escape from the two of them.

‘With my charms.’ He informed the First Knight, flicking his gaze to Leon’s sword.

The Knight immediately released it, like it had burned his hand, eyebrows shooting up.

‘Merlin, I’d never…’

‘I know. I know, it’s just… this isn’t easy.’ He hated admitting to that fact, especially with what he was about to do.

‘Arthur wants you safe.’

‘I will be.’

‘Can I ask where you’re going?’

‘You’re not going to stop me?’ Leon chuckled, retrieving his sword and sheathing it.

‘Could I?’ That was a good point. Merlin didn’t know if he had enough Magic to spare, especially not without his staff, but he’d have to try.

‘I wouldn’t betray Arthur.’

‘Believe me, Merlin, I never thought you would.’ Leon’s smile was genuine, and Merlin’s eyes narrowed.

‘You’re not going to try and kiss me too, right?’ Leon blushed, then laughed, shaking his head fondly.

‘No, I’ll leave that to the others.’

It was only once Merlin had made it out of Camelot, leaving Leon humming a tune on his rounds, that he realised the word “others”.

**

‘You let him go?!’ Gwen watched as her husband panicked, then swallowed down the fear quickly. She wasn’t sure what had happened at the Lake, didn’t know what had finally made Arthur realise that there was plenty of room inside both their hearts for the man that had always been there, but it had to have been bad.

Especially seeing Merlin’s panic earlier, the moment where he blindly reached for Gwaine’s pulse.

Guinevere had been banished, tortured, and had lost more than most, but she’d never seen panic like that before. Not even in Morgana’s eyes, when she began to have her nightmares.

The thought of her once-friend was a strange one, because it didn’t ache as much as she thought it might. Gwen had long ago realised that, just as Merlin had secrets, Morgana was not the same woman that Gwen had cared for.

‘Morgana.’ She stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world, completely forgetting that two people in the room almost died to her.

Gwaine’s shoulders tensed, eyes widened and his breathing quickened, while Arthur just turned to her in confusion.

‘Guinevere?’

‘Merlin’s gone to bury Morgana.’

**

She was light. Almost as light as he was, which terrified him, considering the fact that she had been a Lady of nobility. He moved her to the boat, grimaced as his body complained as he lifted her over the edge. A bed of reeds, perfectly organised, just as he would have done for Arthur.

That thought had him reeling, gripping the edge and gasping in for air, trying to stop the urge to flee back to Camelot.

His King was safe. Alive. Merlin could feel him, like he always could, tucked up inside his chest.

It took a while for him to sort Morgana’s gown, using what Magic he could to lighten the colours back to purples and greens. Her hair was next, smoothing and braiding it, before embedding the flowers that grew around the lake into it.

When he was done, Merlin could almost pretend that this was the woman he’d first met. The one that had been his friend, had fought for his home village.

The one that he’d poisoned.

‘Forgive me, Morgana.’ He murmured, reaching out and halting.

She wouldn’t want his sympathy. They’d hated each other, even if he’d never wanted it to come to this.

‘I should… it should have been me. You fought for Magic, while I…’ He hesitated, looking at her peaceful expression, ‘I fought for my heart.’ That seemed accurate.

She deserved more than just a shove out into the Lake, he decided. She deserved the friend that she’d had, when Merlin had let her down.

He murmured the words, calling out, then focused on his Magic. What little of it he had left came rushing forth, wrapping around the boat in bright sparks as it moved her out onto the waters. Blue lights, hundreds of them, guiding the way.

 _‘In sibbe gereste.’_

The screeching sound of air splitting didn’t worry him, nor did the flames that rushed over the boat as Aithusa swooped. He narrowly avoided the Lake, managing to lower down to the shores, but a distance from Merlin.

The Warlock was tired. Tired, and missing Arthur, and longing for so many things he couldn’t understand.

Aithusa’s sound was one of pain, of mourning, of hurt. The hatchling bowed his head, like he expected Merlin’s punishment.

Instead, the Warlock held out his arms.

‘I know you cared for her. I did, too. I… I should have looked after you. Both of you.’ He’d expected Aithusa to hate him.

He hadn’t expected him to come rushing, to curl up around Merlin and tuck his tail tightly, wings folding so they could stay together on the shores, looking out to the boat.

‘It’s alright, little one.’ Merlin stroked down his snout, pausing when he looked into his bright eyes.

‘I won’t leave you again.’ The Dragon chirped, before tensing, and Merlin didn’t need to turn to know someone else was here.

Leon didn’t speak. He simply walked up to the shoreline, looking out at the boat, before taking a seat.

Percival was next. He seemed less worried about the Dragon, perfectly content to sit beside it. Gwaine sat as close to Merlin as he could, but his respects weren’t for Morgana. He was here because Merlin was, that was clear.

Arthur sat down carefully, mouth set in a firm line, indicating how angry he was at Merlin for fleeing.

He didn’t say anything, either.

Guinevere was the last to approach, Merlin’s magic dutifully laying a cape for her beside the King, without him needing to look away from the boat.

The seven of them stayed until the skies turned pink, the boat nothing more than sinking embers.


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group spend some time bonding

‘No…’ A low-pitched whine, Merlin’s body tensing up like he’d been struck. Gwaine winced, looking down to where the Warlock was sleeping, then glanced up to the King.

Arthur stayed silent, unwavering as Merlin’s body arched up, face contorting in pain. It was clear that he wanted to go to him, Gwaine thought, but Arthur was holding back.

Merlin had asked them not to leave. He’d admitted it quietly, that he didn’t know if he could sleep if they were parted. Guinevere clapped her hands together, insisted that they could all have a sleepover, like when she was a maid, and Merlin a servant.

Nobody pointed out Merlin was still a servant.

Percival had brought food, while Leon told stories. Gwen rested against Merlin, holding his hand and occasionally nudging back into him until he went back to playing with her hair. Gwaine had been drinking, mostly, trying to avoid looking at the Princess at all costs.

Now, it was just the two of them awake. Merlin was on the floor, having insisted that Gwen should have the bed to herself and Arthur. Percival had taken one of the couches, eventually, because Merlin had insisted.

Leon was upon a pile of blankets in the far corner, leaving just Merlin.

Gwaine couldn’t sleep. Not when his guilt ate him up, not when Merlin was making those sounds, terrified even in his sleep.

‘What is it.’ Arthur broke the silence, broke the strict no talking about feelings rule that Gwaine had wanted to stick to.

The Knight shuddered, remembering the look in Merlin’s eyes when he’d woken up, when he’d told Gwaine how close he was to death.

‘I… I told Morgana where you were.’ There, he’d said it. It hung between them, Gwaine running a hand through his hair and tensing up when Merlin made another pained sound.

‘Gwaine…’

‘I swore to myself I’d keep him safe. That I’d keep both of you safe.’ He’d given in to Morgana’s torture, had let the Witch find them, and Merlin…

‘Stop.’ One word, quietly said, and Gwaine rose his head.

‘I don’t blame you.’ He hated Arthur, in that moment.

‘I need you to hate me.’ He whispered, unsure of when his heart had cracked, unsure of when he’d let it get to him this badly.

He could have lost Merlin.

He could have taken _Arthur_ from _Merlin_.

Arthur moved across, stepping around Merlin before coming to stand in front of where Gwaine was sitting.

‘I don’t blame you.’ He repeated, while Gwaine trembled, watched as Arthur’s hand came to settle on his shoulder.

‘Please…’ He didn’t beg. He didn’t, he never had, he just…

‘I forgive you, Gwaine. Merlin forgives you.’ The Knight took a shuddering breath, watched as Merlin whimpered again.

‘A-arthur.’ The King froze, dropping his hand and turning to the moving blanket pile, looking unsure.

‘Can… I can’t…’ He couldn’t go to him, Gwaine understood, rose up from the chair and cleared his throat quietly.

They didn’t need to discuss what had just happened.

Gwaine moved across to Merlin, carefully reaching out, moving a hand to the man’s shoulder, then to the back of his neck.

‘Merlin.’ He murmured lowly, knowing his Magic would recognise Gwaine.

Sure enough, Merlin rolled into the touch, shuffling closer until they were pressed together.

Gwaine looked up, just in time to see Arthur’s brief smile.

**

‘Mm, a picnic does sound nice. What do you think, love?’ Gwen’s fingers lingered on Merlin’s arm, the Warlock blinking up from where he was focusing on reading.

‘What was that?’ Nobody mentioned that he’d answered to the word love, even if Arthur smirked at the two.

His wife just winked back at him, knowing Merlin was far too blind to ever notice what they were trying to do.

‘A picnic. You, me, Arthur, Percival and Gwaine.’ Another thing she was trying to do, the sneaky woman. It was why he loved her, what made her a great Queen. She knew what everyone needed, what made them stronger.

Arthur had died. He could have sworn it, distinctly remembered his last breath, looking up at Camelot’s blue skies while Merlin sobbed.

He understood why the Warlock didn’t want him to leave the room. He understood why Merlin had been just inches from his throne, when he’d addressed the Council, telling them that it was time that Camelot change its views on Magic.

‘Why not Leon?’ Merlin questioned, shutting the book on Magic and looking over to Arthur.

‘He’s taking the week off, to go and see his family.’ Arthur told him, watching as Merlin looked to Gwaine next.

Gwaine’s smirk hid whatever had happened last night, the terror that Arthur had seen.

‘A picnic does sound nice, do you need me to…’

‘I’ll have George fetch it.’ Arthur cut in, watching Merlin’s eyes widen.

Rather than looking pleased, a slight frown crossed his face, a worry that made Arthur’s heart clench. Had he said something wrong?

Gwen leaned forward, lips close to Merlin’s ear as she whispered something that had him blushing dark, relaxing.

‘Gwen!’ He protested, not using her title for the first time in a while.

‘C’mon then, Merls, you’re riding with me.’ Gwaine proclaimed, bouncing to his feet excitably.

Merlin, the idiot, shot him that doting smile that never failed to make Arthur jealous.

But he didn’t have to be jealous, not now.

**

Merlin sighed, wiggled back against Gwaine and smiled secretly when an arm wrapped around his waist, resting on his stomach. A picnic did sound nice, Gwen was right, and he was happy to be spending more time with the group.

Gwen rode alongside Arthur, the two leading the group out of Camelot while Percival drew his horse up beside Gwaine’s, looking over.

‘Comfy?’ He teased, while Merlin realised he’d gone boneless in Gwaine’s grip.

He told himself it was nothing to do with the fact that he could feel Gwaine breathing, when he was pressed close.

‘Mm, must be all of Gwaine’s padding.’ Merlin joked, felt Gwaine chuckle as the hand on his stomach tensed.

‘I assure you, I’m all muscle.’ Gwaine purred, which did not help with the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

**

Arthur was staring. He knew he was, and he really should look away, but he couldn’t.

Merlin, in a flower crown. Merlin, his Merlin, currently dancing with Gwen as his wife laughed, tipping her head back as Merlin spun her around.

Gwaine and Percival were exchanging the wineskin, watching with smirks as Arthur lost all conscious thoughts about _not_ staring at his manservant.

Merlin wasn’t attractive. Not in the traditional sense, not in the way Arthur _thought_ he liked men. Sharp cheekbones, ridiculously expressive eyes, and ears that could hear things from miles away. But he’d grown into his gangly limbs, lithe muscle that was shown off now with his sleeves rolled up.

It was that stupid flower-crown, he swore it.

Gwaine whistled appreciatively as Merlin bowed to Gwen, indirectly giving Gwaine a view of his arse, which Arthur was most certainly not jealous of.

Not at all.

Still, it was worth it to see Merlin blush, scowling over at Gwaine while Gwen clapped her hands together and demanded they bathe in the lake.

‘But you’re not wearing swimwear, love.’ Arthur pointed out, not entirely sure he wanted the Queen of Camelot to strip before two of his Knights.

Even if said Knights only had eyes for each other, and the manservant-Warlock with the flower crown.

‘I’m sure Merlin can change that.’ Gwen looked across, the first time that she’d openly asked for Magic.

Merlin paled, eyes widening even further, before his nervous glance snapped to Arthur.

He’d do anything, just to see those eyes turn golden. Which was why he found himself nodding before he could think of how Camelot might react to Gwen _swimming_ with three other men, Arthur aside.

Merlin didn’t speak, sadly, but his eyes did turn golden as he focused on Gwen. There was something terrifying, at first, about seeing it. As quickly as the emotion had come, it faded, replaced with an awe as Gwen’s outfit changed.

Once she was dressed in cut-off, form-fitting trousers and a light tunic, hair braided back, Merlin’s eyes returned to the colour of the sky.

‘Perfect!’ Gwen cooed, reaching to kiss Merlin’s cheek before moving towards the lake.

He didn’t miss the way Merlin’s eyes drifted, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all want to see?


	4. Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's needing a little love

Merlin watched as Percival splashed Gwaine, the two joking about as Gwen continued to swim around lazily. He wanted to join, but something was holding him back. Something, but when he couldn’t identify it, he slowly approached the water.

He should be happy. He’d survived, they all had. Gwen was laughing, ignoring Gwaine’s attempts to flirt with her as Arthur scowled, leaving his position of sitting by the bank and kicking off his boots.

Merlin, pleased with the distraction, could strip down to his smallclothes and enter the water without anyone’s eyes lingering on marks he didn’t want to have to explain.

Unfortunately, Arthur stripping meant Merlin unconsciously looking across. Normally, this would be accompanied by him quickly hiding the action, pretending that he wasn’t openly ogling the King of Camelot.

Today, a painful lump formed in his chest, staring at the white lightning-shaped scar on Arthur’s side. It looked like it had been there for years, rather than a couple of days, nothing like the bloody mess it had been as Merlin tried to heal it with his Magic.

Someone was talking to him. He could hear it, a faint buzzing in his mind as he stared at Arthur’s wound, the wound that had snatched him away.

Arthur had died. Merlin had _felt_ it, had watched Arthur’s chest fail to rise and fall.

He’d screamed, screamed until his head spun and his body hurt, before reaching for Arthur’s sword.

This bit, he’d conveniently left out of the story. He hadn’t told Arthur that he’d taken the blade, turned it to his own skin and watched as he began to bleed out, right beside the man he’d sworn to protect.

He didn’t tell them that he woke up, covered in his own blood and Arthur’s, the King still half-slumped over him.

He told them he summoned his staff, and used his Magic to bring Arthur back.

No mention of the lightning, of the way it pierced his skin as it wrapped around him, burning every nerve as he pushed the energy into Arthur’s lifeless body.

‘Merlin!’ It was Gwen, Gwen’s hand reaching for his shoulder, Gwen’s hand that he yanked back from sharply.

Arthur was staring at him, waist-high in the lake, waiting.

‘Sorry, zoned out.’ He joked, turning away from his King.

**

By the time he pulled himself out of the water, he was shrivelled up like a prune. Gwaine was laying on the grassy bank, drying out naturally, while Percival was attempting to divert his eyes from where Arthur was helping Gwen dress. The idiot clearly couldn’t do it, fumbling with the laces while Gwen laughed openly.

‘Merlin, love,’ Gwen halted, Merlin wincing when he realised attention had turned to him.

He was lucky to be wearing breeches, but his torso was bare, and he could feel Arthur’s eyes on him.

Pulling the shirt on was easy, concealing the other scars that would, one day, be explained.

Not the ones on his thighs. Not the still-pink marks, where Merlin had pushed Excalibur, let her slide over soft skin.

‘Yes?’ He answered, daring one of them to mention what they’d just seen.

They didn’t.

‘Come take over from Arthur. He’s useless with his hands.’ That had Gwaine laughing, Arthur protesting as Merlin brushed him aside. It didn’t take long for him to tie the dress, watched as Gwen turned and reached for his cheek.

‘Thank you.’ She reached up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before moving back towards the picnic hamper.

Merlin glanced warily to Arthur, only to find the King smiling across at him.

**

Percival fed him another strawberry, while Merlin listened to the chatter from the group. It was peaceful, relaxing, everything he’d expected from the Golden Age of Camelot. Gwaine was wearing the flower-crown, having tried to place it on Arthur’s head, only for the King to threaten him with banishment.

Merlin should be the one banished.

‘You okay?’ Percival murmured, a hand on his shoulder, the other tracing a pattern on Merlin’s side.

Was he okay? He didn’t feel okay. He kept expecting to wake up, to find Arthur dead, to find Gwaine back in the forest.

To stand before Guinevere, soaked in blood, and tell her he’d failed.

‘I’m fine.’ He assured his friend, ignoring the way the hand squeezed.

Merlin was fine.

Arthur continued to joke, teasing Gwaine because the Knight had found out his sword was shorter than most.

‘That’s not the only department that’s lacking.’ Arthur murmured, while Gwaine rolled his eyes.

‘I can assure you, Princess, I’m certainly not lacking.’ Merlin blushed, still not used to the bawdy talk between Knights.

‘Are you sure you’re not compensating?’ If there was one person Arthur loved to wind up, Merlin aside, it was Gwaine. The two could do nothing but bicker.

‘Says the one with a sword at his side.’ Gwaine shot back, before winking to both Gwen and Merlin.

The Warlock rolled his eyes, while Gwen laughed in delight.

Arthur reached for Excalibur, unsheathing her in a means to jest, but Merlin’s eyes caught on the blade.

Days before, she’d been in his hands. Days before, he’d tried to abandon Gwen, pressing the metal further down until he watched skin split, until…

Gwaine had moved, shouting something to Arthur, while Percival had dragged Merlin up, breaking eye-contact with the sword.

He wasn’t breathing. He knew that, he could feel the air in his lungs diminishing, the band getting tighter while Gwaine cradled his face, told him he had to exhale.

It burned. It burned, like the lightning had. Like the feeling had, when Merlin lost Arthur _and_ Gwaine, thought he’d have neither of them to return to.

He vaguely heard Arthur telling Gwaine to slap him, right around the time he passed out.

**

‘It’s not uncommon in Knights, Sire.’ Gaius placed a weary hand on his nephew’s head, checking for fever.

When he found no signs, he looked back to where the King was standing.

‘It’s Merlin.’ He said, like that explained everything that had ever happened in Camelot.

Gwaine huffed, holding Merlin’s hand firmly, having refused to let go since the moment they’d brought him in.

‘What can we do, to help him?’ Gwen asked anxiously, biting at her lower lip as she stayed by her husband’s side.

Explaining to Arthur that Merlin, the manservant that he did care for, was suffering from trauma was difficult. He knew the King understood, had met other Knights that had such a condition. It required sleeping draughts, and taking them away from the public eye, but everyone knew. Such things were gossiped about, and Gaius had no doubt that most of Camelot already knew that Merlin was struggling.

It had been clear, from the moment Arthur had spoken to his Council, with Merlin just a hair’s breadth away.

‘He’ll need time. Comfort. When he’s ready, talking will help. Avoiding things that trigger such episodes should also be advised.’ Gaius looked to Excalibur, wondered why the sword had caused such a terror. Was it the remembrance of Arthur being stabbed, or the sword itself?

‘We can do that.’ Gwaine said firmly, not lifting his gaze from Merlin.

Arthur, however, just stared blankly.

**

‘Sire?’ Arthur jumped, vaguely tried to swat away the piece of paper stuck to his cheek, blinking back sleep as he looked around for the voice.

It was dark outside, the curtains still open, the fire down to dwindling embers. Right, he’d sent George away, told him that he didn’t need his help this evening. Guinevere had gone to her own Chambers, claiming a desire to sleep by herself for the night, when Arthur knew she wanted time to process what they’d been told about Merlin.

Merlin, who was standing in the doorway, peering at Arthur with a smirk.

‘I wasn’t sleeping.’ Arthur lied, unsure why he’d done so, but pleased when Merlin’s grin appeared.

‘Of course not, Sire. Would you like me to relight the fire?’ He nodded, if only because he wanted Merlin in his Chambers, watched as the Warlock went to tend to the fire.

He didn’t use Magic, sadly.

‘Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?’ Arthur broached the subject with care, knowing that it would not be easy to discuss.

They didn’t talk about feelings.

That had changed when Merlin had held him, had cried, had admitted to Magic.

Sure enough, Merlin tensed up, back to him as he stoked the fire.

‘Arthur Pendragon, wanting to talk about feelings?’ He teased, Arthur rolling his eyes fondly. Merlin was an idiot, but he as _his_ idiot.

‘Stop trying to deflect.’

‘I’m surprised you know what that means.’

‘Merlin!’ He protested, the Warlock sniggering slightly before rising up.

When he realised Arthur was serious, the laughter subsided, shoulders slumping.

‘I… I just forget, sometimes, that you’re still here.’

Ah. Now that he had Merlin talking, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

‘You did it, Merlin. You saved my life.’ It had been the wrong thing to say. Merlin tensed up like a deer about to bolt, eyes wide and clearly shocked.

Merlin hadn’t saved him, had he? Arthur thought he’d died, he remembered…

‘You died.’

What was he supposed to say to that?

‘You died, Arthur. You… I… your heart stopped. I _felt_ it stop.’ Merlin was panicking again, hands becoming agitated as he spoke, chest rising and falling sharply as he became pale.

Arthur didn’t need to think about this part, rose up and moved across to his manservant and reached for one of his hands. He was cold to the touch, skin soft as he raised it to his heart, hesitantly pressed it down.

Merlin’s eyes darted to where his hand was, resting on Arthur’s heartbeat.

‘You brought me back.’ Arthur settled with that, watching as Merlin’s tongue snuck out to lick his lips, a nervous habit that was really too attractive to be legal in Camelot.

‘I…’

‘You did it, Merlin. I’m here. And I don’t plan on leaving.’ He added the last bit with a chuckle, surprised when Merlin’s startling blue eyes looked up at him, met his gaze.

Arthur could have cursed his stupidity. He was standing here, with Merlin still pressed close, hand over Arthur’s heart, and now they were staring at each other. With absolutely no control over the action, Arthur glanced to Merlin’s lips, then back up.

He shouldn’t. He knew Gwen had brought it up, he knew Gwaine and Percival understood everyone’s intentions. Merlin was theirs. It may not be a normal arrangement, but the Warlock _needed_ them, just as much as they needed him.

‘Arthur?’ Merlin croaked, so unsure, sounding as scared as he’d been when he’d dragged Arthur through the forest.

‘Merlin.’ He answered, before deciding to take the middle ground.

He did not press his lips to Merlin’s. He simply leaned forward, until their foreheads rested, let Merlin’s hand stay at his chest while his crept to the back of Merlin’s neck.

Comfort, but not quite as he wanted it.


	5. Evening and kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen's protective, Merlin tells some truths

‘My Lord, might I suggest…’ The Councillor trailed off, Arthur following his gaze to where the Queen was holding Merlin’s hand. The Warlock did look very confused, in his defence, staring at where Gwen’s thumb was brushing over his knuckles.

‘Continue.’ Arthur prompted, bored of the half-day of Council meetings that they’d already had.

‘The outer villages will need more reassurance on the fact that you are, indeed, alive.’ He had a point. Arthur glanced across to Leon, looking for his First Knight’s opinion.

‘A progression along the border, visiting the nobles, should secure any rumours, Sire.’ He didn’t really want to leave Camelot. Not when Guinevere was clearly the best at dealing with Merlin, but the Warlock would never let Arthur go alone.

‘Could I add, it might be beneficial to have your Sorcerer by your side, milord.’ His Sorcerer. Gwaine sat up in his chair, even Sir Leon glared in the direction of the noble.

Merlin didn’t bother looking up from where Gwen’s hand was on his.

‘He has a name.’ Arthur drawled, the noble blushing.

‘Forgive me, it might be beneficial to have Merlin by your side.’ Arthur watched, mostly in amusement, as Merlin’s head rose up at the mention of his name.

‘We’ll leave at first light. Sir Leon, I trust that you’ll pick two suitable Knights to accompany us.’ There was no question of who those two Knights would be, mind you. Leon inclined his head, glancing across to where Percival and Gwaine were sitting.

‘Are you sure three Knights are enough, Sire?’ Another noble, one of Uther’s men, asked.

Arthur didn’t want to go to the borders. He didn’t want to leave his wife behind, when she was the one comfortable with affection when Merlin clearly needed it. Still, he had a duty to his Kingdom, and there was no way he was letting Merlin out of his sights again.

‘Will it?’ Arthur asked, looking to his manservant.

Merlin startled, wide eyes so unsure as he looked up at him.

This was all about trust, now that he knew Merlin had Magic. There would be stories to tell, like explaining the scars that Arthur had never seen before, but he could be patient. Merlin would come to him, when he was ready.

‘Three Knights are enough.’ Merlin eventually stated, wary, like he thought Arthur would revoke the privilege at any moment.

Arthur looked back to the noble, daring him to argue with Merlin.

**

‘Come back soon.’ Guinevere murmured, running her fingers through Arthur’s hair gently. Merlin focused on the goblet of wine in his hand, watching the dark liquid inside.

It looked like blood.

‘Don’t worry, my Lady, we’ll bring them both back in one piece.’ Gwaine stated cheerily, draining his drink and then looking across to the jug of wine.

‘Surely it should be two pieces.’ Percival pointed out, a man with a surprisingly low alcohol tolerance.

Merlin wasn’t even sure why he’d been given wine. George had served them, before leaving the room quickly, bowing as he left. That should be Merlin’s job, but he had found himself in a strange limbo, neither a servant nor an advisor.

‘Have you seen Merlin and Arthur? Definitely one piece.’ Gwaine snorted, pleased with his observations, and Merlin briefly looked up to use his Magic against the Knight.

Gwaine, rather than looking annoyed, looked delighted to be covered in wine.

‘I’ve never seen you use Magic up close.’ Leon remarked, Merlin wincing.

‘Sorry, I…’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s… fascinating.’ Merlin knew that Leon and Arthur still tensed up. It was an instinct, he told himself. Nothing to do with the fact that it was _him_ performing Magic.

‘Could you show us more?’ Percival asked, looking to the King, then back to Merlin.

The Warlock did the same, eyes drifting to where Arthur’s head was in Gwen’s lap.

‘Go ahead.’ Gwen prompted, while Arthur just lazily smiled.

He did the same thing that he’d done with Arthur, alone in that forest. Focused on the fire, stretching his hand out and shaping a Dragon from the flames. It sparkled to life, shifting into Aithusa’s familiar shape, before taking to the skies of the room.

Maybe it was the wine, that prompted him to make the animation Magic far more powerful than he should. But he couldn’t help it, some part of him craved the way his Magic could make figures from nothing.

It settled on the bed, patting down the sheets and spinning, before Arthur stretched a hand out towards it.

Merlin looked back to the wine, left the Dragon to approach the King warily.

‘It was you, that made a horse from smoke.’

Summoning the Witchfinder, which led to so much agony. Which led to Morgana’s terror, which led to Gaius being interrogated, which led to Merlin being caught out by the man.

‘It was.’ He admitted, found the Dragon racing around on the floor, bounding between the Knights.

‘Why make animals from Magic?’

He’d never really thought about the question before. Animation Magic came naturally to him, and it made some part of him happy to watch the way the creatures began to shape themselves.

He was lonely. Having Magic, _being_ Magic, it was a solitary lifestyle.

‘Animation Magic is the easiest.’ He stated, thinking back to all the times he’d used it.

‘For all sorcerers?’

‘No. Each sorcerer has a speciality. I’m better at animation, Morgause was better at spell craft, Morgana’s was a Seer. But she was also skilled in combat Magic, while I’m limited to branches and rockfalls.’ He took another gulp of wine, the Dragon returning back to the fire where it had come from.

‘A Seer?’ Arthur prompted, sitting up straight.

‘She could see into the future a lot easier than I can.’

‘You see the future?’ Gwaine chirped, intrigued.

Merlin never thought he’d be sitting on the floor of the King’s Chambers, drinking wine, telling the group about Magic.

‘Sometimes. I knew Arthur was going to get…’ He halted, felt his stomach twist angrily, ‘Stabbed by Mordred. I knew I’d have to kill Morgana.’

Well, that was certainly a way of cheering up the group.

He finished his drink quickly, found Gwen studying him curiously.

‘Come here.’ He did as told, after all, she was the Queen. Arthur moved away, so that Merlin could perch at her feet, Gwen slowly reaching for his hair.

Chatter continued. Arthur topped Merlin’s wine up, while he sunk back into Gwen’s lap, happy to be there.

‘Do you remember that snake thing?’ Guinevere asked, fingers leaving his hair to move to the neckerchief.

‘Mm, I never properly thanked you.’ Merlin tried to get his eyes to open, but they were heavy. He was tired, _exhausted_ , fed up of feeling like this. He wanted to go back, to before seeing Arthur die, to before Mordred’s betrayal.

To before he poisoned Morgana.

‘I’d never seen such Magic before, I thought… I thought we’d lost you.’ Merlin felt fingers at the scar, tracing the line that Gaius had made when cutting open his neck.

‘Gaius knew what he was doing.’

‘You didn’t use your Magic.’ She pointed out, urging him to move his head forwards so she could admire the scar better.

‘It would never have hurt Arthur.’ Merlin tried to explain, shuddering as she pressed down on the white line.

‘How did she do it?’

‘Made a cut, put the Fomorroh into it.’ He remembered the hut, Morgana’s mad eyes as she’d moved over to him.

‘Sounds a lot like torture.’ Guinevere murmured, voice shaky.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t save you from the Dark Tower.’ Merlin blurted, opening his eyes to look up at her.

Guinevere looked… shocked. Confused, pained, all emotions that _he’d_ caused. He could have saved her. He could have kept Elyan alive, the brother she loved so dearly.

‘Oh, Merlin…’ He agreed, he really did need to stop talking.

Gwen reached for his cheek, tilting his gaze up to meet her.

Before she’d been the Queen, Gwen had been his friend. His closest friend, one he’d considered telling his secret to so many times.

This time, when she kissed him, Merlin had been expecting it. Well, more than he’d been expecting it in front of the entirety of Camelot. She kissed him gently, like she was afraid he’d pull away, but Merlin had no intention of doing so.

She tasted mostly of wine, and while his hands were afraid to ever touch her, she had no qualms about tugging him closer.

‘I’d like a piece of that.’ Gwaine muttered, before a thumping sound was heard.

‘That better not be the Queen your talking about.’ Arthur shot back, while Gwen smiled against his lips.

‘Not the Queen, Princess.’

**

‘We’ll be back in no more than fourteen days, love.’ Arthur promised, kissing Gwen’s cheek as they stood in the Courtyard.

Merlin was waiting by his horse, fingers tightening around the Staff he was holding. He wasn’t sure why he was bringing it, perhaps because it had managed to bring Arthur back to him.

Perhaps because he was fed up of looking so defenceless.

‘Bring them back, Arthur.’ Gwen’s eyes were on him, Merlin could tell.

They’d kissed. And Arthur hadn't hit him, nor threatened to have his head rolling. In fact, the King looked more amused than anything else.

The new dynamics between the group, the way that nobody questioned it… he was confused.

Not that he was complaining. This was a new Camelot, one where the King and Queen could be safe.

The Queen moved to Leon, then to Percival and Gwaine.

Merlin looked to Gaius, who simply nodded. They’d done this routine plenty of times, but none recently without the threat of Morgana. It was strange, to think that she was gone, that Merlin was uncontested for power.

‘Merlin.’ He bowed, before accepting the arms that wrapped around him.

‘Please be safe.’ She whispered, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek, before stepping back.

‘Come on, Merlin. Trust you to be the one we’re waiting on.’


	6. Out on a Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the castle, Merlin's trying to be free

‘Eye spy…’

‘I’m going to gag him.’ Arthur stated, teeth gritted as Gwaine shot the King a winning smile.

‘Kinky, Princess.’ Gwaine teased, Merlin rolling his eyes as he focused back on the forest around them. They’d made good progress, the familiar tracks of the border were places that Merlin felt safe in.

Plus, his Magic was allowed to creep out, studying the land around them as they moved towards the next Village. People were pleased to see the King of Camelot and his Knights, but Merlin did not miss the way the whispers picked up.

They knew what he’d done. They recognised the Staff, that stayed attached to the horse as Merlin let his eyes shut.

Around him, the world continued. The plants hummed, animals leaving small bursts of energy throughout the forest. Every flower, every tree and vine and green leaf that stretched before them, he could hear them. He could see them, _feel_ them, each and every one as he let his fingers stretch out on his thighs.

Then, a slight wavering in the happiness of his Magic. Frowning, he concentrated in on it, identified it as a group of people a couple of marks North. They hadn't heard them, nor spotted their tracks, but Merlin wasn’t willing to risk anything.

Not when he’d only just got Arthur and Gwaine back.

‘There’s a group North of here.’ Merlin warily opened his eyes, looking to Arthur, who peered back over his shoulder.

‘Can you tell us how many?’ The King asked, while Leon’s hands drifted to his sword.

It took Merlin a moment to remember that wasn’t because of him.

 _‘Benfindan.’_ His Magic obeyed the command, seeking out those that walked through the lands. It didn’t take long to find them, the blurry image of six people appearing. He could tell they might be a threat, they certainly had no good intentions of the land.

‘Six. I think they’re bandits.’ Merlin rocked back into the saddle, shaking away the spell and found Arthur studying him.

‘Keep an eye on them.’ Like Merlin would ever let Arthur get hurt again.

‘Yes, Sire.’ He chimed, before falling silent once again.

**

If Merlin brought Arthur back from the dead, it implied that he had to give a life back to the Old Religion. Balance, that was what the King knew about Magic. He had discussed this briefly with his Knights and his wife, along with the Physician, but Gaius had been unsure.

‘The Old Religion, you said it requires balance?’ Arthur asked, looking back to the Warlock. Merlin’s eyes were flecked with gold, but the King was unsure of how to bring that up. Was it the bandits he was tracking?

‘A life for a life.’ Merlin agreed, fingers darting down to the Staff, before returning.

‘So, if you don’t mind the ask, how did you heal me?’ Gwaine’s near-death experience was a safer topic, Arthur figured. The Knight looked intrigued, urging his horse to fall in step with Merlin’s mare.

‘Healing spells are complicated. They take a lot of energy.’ He didn’t look uncomfortable, just unsure. It had to be difficult, openly talking about Magic in a group of men known to persecute it.

‘Energy you got from Morgana?’ Gwaine hesitantly asked, Merlin’s head snapping across. His eyes went wide, mouth parting, before he shook his head.

‘No. Her death… the Old Religion mourned.’ Arthur wanted to point out that it couldn’t _physically_ mourn, before deciding that he should keep his mouth shut.

‘You can ask, Arthur.’ Merlin added, the King rolling his eyes. Merlin was more observant than Arthur had ever given him credit.

‘Where did you get the energy from, to…’ He trailed off, wondering if Merlin would be happy with the Knights knowing that he’d brought him back from the dead.

‘To bring you back from the dead?’ Merlin quipped, Leon almost toppling from his seat as he looked to Arthur, who shrugged.

‘You died?’ Percival’s eyes were wide, but the Warlock didn’t falter.

‘I used the Staff. Asked nicely.’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm, eyebrows narrowing at Arthur despite the way that he was grinning.

‘Idiot.’

‘Prat.’

**

‘They’re too close.’ Merlin finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer. They were just out of ear-shot, bandits closing in on their path, and he was anxious to wrap Arthur up in his Magic.

‘Stay back.’ Arthur advised, Merlin shooting him an incredulous look.

‘Stay _back_?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘But… there’s six of them!’ Merlin could hear his heart. It was hammering away, just the thought of Arthur getting hurt…

‘Precisely why I need you out of harm’s way.’ Arthur pointed out, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

‘Arthur…’

‘This is non-negotiable, Merlin.’ He fell silent, but he did as told.

Mostly. His Magic crept out, began to silently weave around the Knights’ armour, tracing the edges of the metal as his protection rolled over them. When they got back, Merlin would find the strongest spells he knew, would enchant them when the armour was crafted.

When the bandits came, the four of them were ready. They dismounted smoothly, Excalibur being drawn and catching sunlight as Arthur spun to face the two who had drawn swords.

Six was a perfectly easy number, Merlin thought. Arthur handled two, Percival doing the same, while one of the bandits wavered in his tracks.

Sneakily, Merlin let his eyes glow golden, knocking that one out. Just a precaution, he told himself, listening to Gwaine’s cheer as he disarmed his man.

‘Ay, Princess, hurry up with your-’ Gwaine was cut off by the sound of a bolt, Merlin’s hands stretching out based on an instinct that came with seeing Arthur in danger.

He didn’t mean to throw the bandits _quite that hard_. The two that Arthur had been facing ended up hitting trees, and falling very still.

The one that had dared to raise the crossbow, the one Leon had disarmed but not-killed, was certainly in the worse shape. He’d hit a branch, impaling the bandit straight through the chest.

Merlin let his thudding heart drown out the guilt of killing, reminded himself this was not the first time he’d had blood on his hands.

It was the first time he hadn't had to hide the gold in his eyes, the fact his hands were still stretched out as he looked to what he’d done.

Arthur was watching him, curious, but not angry.

‘We’ll make camp up ahead.’

**

Sticks, collected.

Horses, groomed.

Bedrolls, spread out with blankets that Merlin _may_ have multiplied just because he didn’t want anyone to catch a chill.

He hummed to himself, stirring the pot of stew while the Knights stripped out of armour, kicking off boots and being drawn to the fire like a moth to a flame.

‘Did I ever tell you that I love your cooking?’ Gwaine questioned, fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously while Merlin smiled.

‘You have, but compliments will get you everywhere.’ That had the Knight laughing, swinging an arm around his shoulders and drawing him in to his side.

It was nice. Warmth, comfort in a way that had Merlin relaxing into his side.

‘I can take first watch.’ Sir Leon offered, looking to Arthur, who nodded.

‘Uh… I can do that. If you want. With Magic. I mean, you can still stay up, I just…’ He stumbled over the words, faltering until Arthur broke his ramblings.

‘It’ll wake us if someone gets close?’

‘Yes.’ He confirmed, perfectly sure in his Magic’s determination to protect Arthur.

With that settled, Merlin portioned out the stew, handing dishes out and watching as the Knights quickly tucked in.

Merlin left his own dish, took the main pot across to the stream they’d made camp by. He was cleaning out the pot when he remembered the attack, figured that the Knights’ swords would need washing as well. He hummed, wandering back to the fire and scoffing down his meal, before snatching Gwaine and Percival’s blades.

They were quick to clean, so Merlin returned them, picking up Leon’s sword and Excalibur while he was at it.

It was only when he went to unsheathe Arthur’s sword that he remembered his last time he’d held the blade. Merlin paused, found the guilt of lying to Arthur bubbling up. He’d told him that he’d asked the Old Religion nicely, when really, Merlin had offered out _himself._

‘We’ll keep it between ourselves.’ Merlin muttered, lowering the sword into the water.

‘Keep what?’ Gwaine asked cheerfully, plopping down by his side.

‘How Excalibur’s the best sword.’ He teased, watching Gwaine place a hand over his heart.

‘You wound me, dear Merlin. We all know I have the _finest_ sword.’

Merlin swore it was the way he winked that had his heart skipping.


	7. The Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin asks to go to the Lake

‘Could we stop at the lake on the way back?’ Merlin asked, plodding alongside Arthur and wondering when he’d relaxed so much. Perhaps it was the fact that they did this so often, that Merlin was used to going out with the Knights by side.

‘Why?’ Arthur’s head turned to look at him, confusion written in his features. It wasn’t a denial, and Merlin was surprised.

‘I’ve got questions about how I brought you back.’ There, that was the honesty that Arthur wanted.

It worked. The King seemed pleased, a smile stretching as he nodded, informing Leon of the change in course.

‘Chatting to water?’ Gwaine questioned, still snacking on an apple that Merlin’s Magic provided.

‘Something like that.’

‘Is it true, that there’s a Goddess in the Lake?’ That drew attention, heads turning to Percival. Merlin forgot, sometimes, that he’d been raised in a Kingdom where Magic was legalised. That, on his travels, rumours about Freya would have been spread.

‘A Goddess?’ Arthur was staring at Merlin now, frowning, like Merlin should have given this knowledge earlier.

‘I… Not quite. Well, I guess she could be.’ He wasn’t entirely sure, the last Goddess they’d met had been the Cailleach.

‘That’s why you took me to the Lake?’ The King was studying him, watching him, and Merlin was uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

‘Yeah.’

They sped up, after that. Understanding that Merlin wasn’t going to give anything else out on the topic, understanding he didn’t want to think about Arthur on the lakeshore.

When the Lake came into view, he no longer needed to panic. If he didn’t like the answers, then he simply wouldn’t tell the King what they were.

He dismounted, patting his mare as he asked her politely not to wander too far, before heading towards the shores. They didn’t try and follow, but he knew their eyes were on him, waiting for whatever would happen.

When he reached the lakeshore, he kicked off his boots, rolling his breeches up enough so that he could step into the water.

Instantly, his Magic prickled, telling him he had the attention of his friend.

‘Uh… Freya?’ He called out, quite unsure if there was a more technical way of trying to summon her.

Still, when the water broke, and she rose up out of the depths of the Lake, Merlin figured he couldn’t have upset her too much. Freya beamed the moment she stood straight, gown strangely dry despite the lake around them.

‘Hello, Merlin.’ When she offered out her arms, Merlin was more than willing to fall into them. Cold, nothing like the living woman he’d been willing to run away with, but this was enough. Hands cradling the back of his head, tucking him close as his Magic bubbled around her.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.’ She whispered, referring to the fact she had not come when Arthur was dying, when Merlin…

‘Was it me? Did I… was that my doing?’ She took a step back, eyes flicking down to his thighs, before returning to him.

‘The Old Religion isn’t unkind, Merlin. When they saw how you were hurting…’

‘I can’t live without him, Freya. I just… I can’t.’ One day, he would have to. They both knew that, but for now…

‘You’ve got him. You did it.’ He’d brought Arthur back, or the Old Religion had, because they knew Merlin needed the King.

‘Thank you.’ He murmured, lowering his lips to her temple.

She chuckled, cupping his cheek and brushing a thumb under his eye.

‘I told you I’d repay your kindness, love.’

**

‘Who’s the hot chick?’ Merlin almost toppled from his horse, looking across to Gwaine.

‘Gwaine…’ Arthur warned, but Merlin shrugged. This conversation was bound to come out sooner or later.

‘Her name was Freya. I took her to the lake when she was injured, but she died. Then she became… the Lady of the Lake.’ Camelot appeared on the horizon, the perfect city nestled into the surrounding trees.

‘Was she… yours?’ Percival had lost his family. King Cenred, he’d been responsible, and Merlin had listened to the stories he told about those he’d lost. His Mother, Father, and his lover. A blossoming future, snatched away cruelly.

‘We were planning on running away together, to make a house in the mountains.’ He remembered the two of them, curled up under the Castle and speaking of things they didn’t understand.

‘And she was hurt?’

‘Cursed. She… when she was younger, she made the mistake of upsetting a sorcerer. The curse turned her into a Bastet.’

Arthur choked. Sucked in air, while Leon went pale, staring at Merlin like he was mad.

‘What are we missing?’ Gwaine questioned, looking between them.

‘Arthur killed the Bastet, when she threatened Camelot.’ Merlin responded, neutral, watching the way Gwaine’s head snapped to the King.

‘Merlin…’

‘I don’t blame you. I never did.’ He promised, looking to his home.

**

‘Arthur!’ Guinevere descended from the throne, came rushing across to his side as he studied the people in the throne room.

Druids. Three of them, bowing to him as he walked past them to reach his wife.

‘Love, what…’

‘They’re here for their King.’ Guinevere didn’t know, not yet. He hadn't had the conversation with the Queen, nor his Knights, nor the Council that were in the room.

Arthur turned to the Druids, before attempting his best welcoming look.

‘Is there something that Camelot can help you with?’ The Council looked unsure, possibly because Magic hadn't yet been legalised. It was a complicated process, one that Arthur needed Merlin’s advice for, but the Warlock wasn’t rested enough yet.

‘We came for our King, milord.’ Perhaps he was supposed to be upset, frustrated, that they weren’t addressing him as their King.

‘For what purpose?’

‘His death was felt across the realm.’

Death.

‘There must be a mistake, Merlin didn’t die.’ Arthur was panicking. Because if he had died, Merlin would have told him. How had Merlin died? He wasn’t injured!

‘Merlin’s a King?’ Guinevere asked, stepping closer.

‘Of the Druids. His name’s Emrys.’ Arthur heard Percival and Gwaine make a sound, watched Gaius’s proud smile from the sideline.

‘With respect, milord, the loss of Magic was a definite. For no more than a couple of hours, but…’

Merlin chose that time to come into the room, halting when he spotted the Druids.

‘Merlin, they’re here for you.’ Arthur watched as the Warlock hurried to his side, sidestepping around the Druids with a terror that surprised him. Merlin usually was welcoming to all that stepped foot in Camelot, but with these men in front… he looked wary.

‘My Lord, we came to inquire on your health.’ They tried to bow to him, which just made Merlin flush dark red, shaking his head sharply.

‘I’m fine, what’s this…’

‘Apparently, you died.’

It was true. Those words were all it took, and Arthur could see the way Merlin’s eyes widened in guilt. The way his body tensed, shoulders hunching in like he could disappear simply by will alone.

‘As you can see, I’m healthy. You can leave.’ His voice was sharp, angry, and the Druids were quick to bow yet again.

This time, Merlin didn’t stop them.

‘Might we extend an apology, my Lord…’

‘I asked you to leave.’ He cut in, the three Druids halting.

Arthur needed an explanation.

**

‘Were you planning on telling us you died?’ Merlin watched as Arthur paced, looked to where Guinevere was seated at the desk. Gwaine and Percival were close by, Leon at the door, and the Warlock wondered if he could escape from this situation.

He hated the Druids. He didn’t mean to, but they had known how this would end, yet they let him walk into the danger. They didn’t help him, they didn’t guide. They simply _expected_ him to understand everything, to save them while navigating having Magic in a place where it was illegal.

‘Not really.’ Merlin told the truth, now. Lying only dug him in a bigger hole.

‘Was it bringing me back? Were you injured in the battle?’

Oh. Oh, Arthur hadn't figured it out, and Merlin’s heart broke. He looked to Excalibur, then back to the King.

‘No.’ He said, hesitantly.

Suddenly, Percival’s arms were around him. Gwaine was close behind, the two squishing him between them, and Merlin couldn’t help it.

He cried. He hated doing it, hated being so _weak_ when everyone expected better, but he couldn’t keep pretending.

‘Excalibur.’ Leon murmured quietly, Merlin listening to Arthur gasp, to Gwen stifle a sob as she understood what they were all saying.

Percival was still cradling him, Gwaine’s hands running up and down his shoulder blades, and Merlin slumped into them.

Another secret, and not one he’d intended on sharing.


	8. Animations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's using animation Magic

Arthur threw the door open, halting when he saw Sir Leon standing on the threshold.

‘Sorry for the intrusion, milord,’ He even inclined his head, but the King took note of the bright smile on his face, the relaxed shoulders, ‘But I believed you and the Queen might wish to see this.’

That could only mean it was something to do with Merlin. Arthur looked over his shoulder, to where Guinevere was already up and reaching for a gown, draping it over her nightdress while Arthur looked back to his Knight.

‘Percival and Gwaine?’

‘Already on their way, Sire.’ He nodded, moving back into his room to grab a shirt, tugging it over his head while Guinevere made her way to Leon’s side.

‘Right this way, my Lady.’

**

He couldn’t sleep. Whenever he settled down in his bed, shutting his eyes led to thoughts of lightning and swords, of haunted green eyes and a sword tinged in dragon-fire. Merlin was ashamed to admit that he couldn’t do this alone, not after he’d spent almost ten years being able to do so.

Sneaking out was a familiar routine, but once he’d made it out of Gaius’s home, he struggled on what to do next. He could go and find one of the Knights, explain that he couldn’t sleep when they weren’t close-by.

Then again, they had very little time to coddle him. They had their own issues, problems to deal with that didn’t include Merlin’s inability to forget how cold Arthur had fallen under his touch.

He ended up on the grassy banks of the training field, looking out across the land. It was dark, save for the moonlight and the torches behind him, but Merlin had never feared what he couldn’t see. After all, the worst fears came from betrayal, not from the shadows.

Normally, on nights where his thoughts got the best of himself, Merlin would end up in the forest. It was the safest place to go to use his Magic, but now… Arthur knew. The Council knew. All of Camelot knew.

Like usual, the first thing to form from his mind was a Dragon, formed of nothing more than sparks of light. It wasn’t like Aithusa, it looked more like Kilgharrah, actually. Merlin watched the Dragon race around the field, focusing on creating more creatures to join. Rabbits, and a stag, and a wolf that required more attention than the others.

As the field began to fill with his Magic, he couldn’t help but smile. Animation Magic, the very lifeline of his abilities, and he didn’t feel as empty when he was surrounded by it. The images danced and played, chased each other while running around him, guiding him further into his Magic.

He wanted more. To chase away the guilt in his stomach, to see everything.

To not be _alone_.

A horse formed, nickering softly as it rose its head to look at Merlin. His fingertips were alight with golden energy, and he could feel the glow in his eyes as he shifted and crafted the shapes in front of him.

Then, the idea struck.

Concentrating wasn’t difficult, not when Magic was surrounding him, wrapping tighter and tighter as he gave in to his urges.

 _‘Merlin! C’mon, you’re always so slow!’_ When he opened his eyes, it was to a boy, made of nothing more than golden sparks.

Will.

A rush of heat through his stomach, Merlin gasping as a boy ran through him, bright-eyed and dressed in tattered clothing.

 _‘Shut up, Will!’_ He shouted back, chasing after his friend, while Merlin watched the two of them dart around the field.

The memory played out in front, copying and twisting the motions that he replayed over in his mind. Will lunged, tackling Merlin down to the floor, the two of them scrabbling around in an attempt to pin the other.

If he could do that… Inhaling, he focused on changing the people, on shifting the image.

 _‘I’m Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen.’_ His first friend, his best friend, standing in front of Merlin, encased in a stocks made from his imagination.

The older Merlin, the real one, stepped around the image to better study his Magic. It was accurate, catching Gwen’s smile and yet her concern, the way Merlin looked up at her in awe.

 _‘I’m the Lady Morgana’s maid._ ’ She added, while young-Merlin tried his best not to get tongue-tied.

 _‘Right, well I’m Merlin.’_ He offered out a hand, one stained by rotten vegetables, and watched as she smiled, taking it.

He pushed further, away from Guinevere, away from the happiness.

When he next opened his eyes, it was to the moment he lost hope.

 _‘Have some before I finish it.’_ Merlin advised, offering out the waterskin to Morgana, kneeling on the floor with tears in her eyes. She smiled, a fond huff as she took it, raising it up to her lips without hesitation.

Trusting him.

Gulping it down, leaving Merlin to turn his back as she coughed, rose a hand to her neck.

He turned back, to see the betrayal, to watch her gasp as he reached for her, let her curl back in his arms while he prayed for it to be over.

‘What did you do?’ He jumped, then forced his body to relax, staring at Sir Leon as he looked down at the image.

‘I… she trusted me. And I poisoned her.’ His Morgana, the good Morgana, gasped in for air before vanishing, the image dissipating.

‘Why?’ No judgement, no distrust, simply waiting.

‘The sleeping spell… it was connected to her. To break it, I had to get Morgause’s attention.’ Through Morgana, the woman he could have saved.

‘Did you love her?’

Did he? Or did he just see himself reflected, in those terrified eyes.

‘She was alone. And that… that was because of me.’ Leon hesitated, before offering out an arm.

Merlin stumbled in to the embrace, let himself be pulled closer.

**

‘Sleep with me.’ Gwaine stated, clearly understanding Merlin’s hesitation to go back into his own room. He blinked, looking up in confusion, before realising Gwaine was being serious.

‘I can take the floor…’ Merlin went to offer, too tried to deny the request. To pretend he didn’t need one of them, to reassure him that he hadn’t failed.

‘And let me miss out on the chance to share?’ Gwaine joked, pushing the door open to his room.

The fire was lit, the room warm as he moved towards the bed rather hesitantly. Kicking off his boots, and abandoning the jacket, he looked to where Gwaine was doing the same.

‘I’m sorry I left you to face her.’ Gwaine, facing away from him, tensed. Shirtless, so Merlin could see the muscles in his back contract, watch as he hunched in.

‘I should have protected all of you.’ Merlin continued, slumping down to sit on the edge of the bed, unable to keep himself up any longer.

‘Listen to me,’ Gwaine crouched down, both hands resting on Merlin’s thighs, unintentionally over the still-pink scars, ‘Nobody could have succeeded. Nobody. You did the best you could, Merlin.’ The Knight guided him back, before pulling up the covers over him, walking to the other side to join.

It was a tight fit, but Gwaine had no hesitation in placing an arm around him, tugging him closer. Snatching up a hand, Gwaine placed it to his heartbeat, before waiting for Merlin’s response.

The Warlock just settled against his side, figuring a night’s sleep was definitely needed.


End file.
